The Mighty Will Fall
by Eucleia
Summary: His exhausted heart and stubborn tenderness for her told him that he was human. Her aching chest and guilty weaknesses told her that she loved him. A series of RivaMika oneshots and drabbles that I've decided to dump here because I have too many.
1. Exhausted

**Author's Note: Because I can never resist writing about these two powerhouses, I've decided to dump my rivamika/levimika drabbles and oneshots here. **

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**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the published stories or characters I write about in my own work, nor do I make any profit from my writing.**

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There was no other word to explain the maelstrom of swirling emotions that thundered in his chest, gripping his heart in such a tight hold that sometimes it refused to decrease its quickening thudding.

Euphoria blended with perplexity, desire fused with dereliction. His mind was lost in such turmoil it hurt to think, hindering his ability to control his actions and words.

Because all it allowed him to do was flip through flashbacks, images, unspoken feelings for her, causing his forsaken heart to beat that much faster, that much hotter, for something he had never known. He was usually so guarded and composed, face never belying any sort of weakness or doubt, and always the cold and apathetic soldier he was accustomed to being.

Until suddenly he found he couldn't hold the façade anymore. It could have happened in these past six years, a few days, the seconds it took for him to glance at her in desperate yearning.

Was this how _normal_ people felt when they engaged in that inconvenient intensity they called _love_? Was it natural to have these irrational thoughts and cumbersome outbursts of affection?

He supposed he would never really know.

But for some reason, his body welcomed the new sensations that flowed through it every time she grabbed his sleeve, snapped at his uncouth comments, raced him through the stone streets during military leave. And yet all he could manage was a smirk and a raised eyebrow that silently chided her: _Oh, Ackerman. You never were one to be compliant_. When what he really wanted to do was feel her muscled form flush against his own bare skin, their heat stifling each other to the point of suffocation, and their passion finally released in a gale of kicked sheets and rough kisses, drowning him in a primal frenzy.

But she would just quirk her mouth into a crooked smile and softly shake her head in the tiniest movement, warning him to control his inexperienced ardor lest they be found out. And he would have no choice but to incline his head in solemn defeat, acknowledging her never-ending acumen that pissed him off so much he wished he had never developed a heart.

Because it was tiring.

Every night, they bade each other veiled farewells until the morning, their fingers dancing across the other's face so delicately that it soothed upon the lightest contact and stung when they parted. As he lay in bed, he found that sleep wasn't as satisfying as it had been, and he would wake up with a burning chest, cursing her name for making him feel foolish. And though he was comforted by the fact that he knew she was waking up feeling the same way, he pitied them, knowing it was impossible to reveal their clandestine affair while the war still continued.

But his exhausted heart and stubborn tenderness for her told him that he was human.

And he reveled in the notion of finally having someone to call his own.


	2. Antithesis

**WARNING: Contains _slight _portrayals of self-harm. _Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with it. _**

**Author's Note: A bit of depression because I wasn't feeling very well earlier in the week. The next one I post will be happier. I promise :) **

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On the outside, she was every bit the composed and enigmatic soldier she was known to be and praised for.

But on the inside, she was slowly crumbling into soft powder to be blown to the wind, never to be whole again.

On the outside, her face would betray no stray slips of emotion, hard as stone, and even more difficult to crack with eloquent words.

But on the inside, behind her impeccable mask, her brain was deteriorating into a black hole, sucking any shred of confidence she had left in that once-brilliant palace she used to call her conscience.

On the outside, her eyes continued to sparkle and gleam with every exhilarating conquest outside the Walls. No one bothered to realize that her dark orbs had only beamed from the invigoration, and slight competition, that ensued when he had been in her presence, and never questioned why she suddenly developed a persistent blinking problem in the past month.

But on the inside, she cried herself to sleep every night, wondering how she had let it get this far, and knowing she wouldn't be able to recover, even with the passing days. Every time she closed her door, agony managed to steal through the shrinking crack, mocking her inability to salvage her dignity and move on, and she offered no resistance.

On the outside, her arms and legs moved through orders and commands as if they still knew the purpose behind them, automatically obeying anything the Commander murmured in her direction. Sometimes they would unconsciously advance through an ingrained procedure, performing a delicate set of motions that could only be described as caressing by any onlooker. No one would be in front of her.

But on the inside, her usual tense and quick muscles were sluggish and heavy, all energy drained from the cells. And she felt limp from the massive weight beating down on her shoulders that only lifted when she dreamt of him and his cynical voice, sneering at her tragic love, but never denying it.

On the outside, her voice never wavered. It was still the same strong and heartening delivery she'd had for the past nine years, inflections always hinting at something more than encouragement. Ever since she'd known him.

But on the inside, the quivering mass of tissue that was now her heart struggled to barely continue its futile efforts, forcing life's wine through her constricted veins and refusing to surrender its weak hold over her lifeless body. She had no one to give it to now anyway.

On the outside, the thick fabric of her clothes protected her from the prying eyes of teammates, and she rejoiced in that at least she was still delegated privacy.

But on the inside, her skin bore the faint scars of tiny cuts, each a marker of a day since he was ripped from her reach, and she knew each of them by heart, could discern what time, where, how; the first few were deeper, less controlled and orderly, than those following. And if she ran a finger over the raised flesh, she could still feel the bite of the metal of his knife gently dissecting her. She had to lock herself in his closet for five hours before she forced her conscience to let her quit.

On the outside, she could sometimes feel a ghostly touch stroking a finger through her hair, sending small tremors through her body that tormented her soul and left her yearning for more. It would end almost at the small of her back, that sacred place his sinewy hand would always linger when he affirmed his usually non-expressive passion for her, and she grieved over the loss of his fiery intensity.

But on the inside, her chest churned with a strange coolness, feeling empty and frigid from her depression. But it also simmered and convulsed with a heat so sultry she sensed it, wanted it, _needed_ it to consume her, pulling her down into a blissful hell. And she wondered if he would be there, waiting, once she escaped this purgatory.

Because once they finally met again, they would disintegrate into the blue and white-hot wings she always knew they invisibly possessed, free from any earthly cares and troubles, free to love openly. And it would be the most glorious reunion to happen since man rediscovered the ocean.

But for now, she sewed.

She sewed her aching muscles back into the agile things they once were. She sewed her shattered mind back into the clever intellect he hated admitting he admired. She sewed her cracked skin. She sewed her heart.

Because once they finally met again, she wouldn't be able to bear him seeing her like this, a carved husk of the person she used to be.

Because she knew he would rather see her stitched and sutured, scars flaunted proudly with her head held high enough he couldn't kiss her lips, than a dried out and destroyed shell that hid behind her anguish, so heavy it had absorbed the rest of her lonely days.

Because he would rather see a fighter than a prisoner.


	3. Perfect

**Author's Note: Kind of cheesy, but I wrote it in class in under an hour (I really should have been paying attention haha) plus I got bubbly with feels. **

**Happy reading!**

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He was not, Mikasa suddenly realized, everything she had looked for in a potential partner when she was younger. The way he looked, the way he acted, the way he spoke, her list could go on and on, and she frowned in slight annoyance at her brain's decision to bring this up _now_ of all times. But she sighed and lowered herself into a small chair as delicately as she could, and gave in to her mind's scrutiny. She reckoned she had enough time before they started calling for her.

First, the way he looked. The most easily deluded sense. When she had been a wide-eyed little girl, her mother would tell stories and fairy tales of their clan, always ending with a handsome and brave young man rescuing a kind woman, and she would listen in awe at the charming descriptors of this savior, her naïve mind immediately conjuring up a fantasy image of the most beautiful human being she could think of. He would be tall, she recalled, with honey blond hair a little darker than her father's, and her mouth quirked at the memory. His blue eyes would sparkle and twinkle every time he looked at her, and would never narrow and squint in frustration, but instead go wide with encouragement and optimism. And his body would be strong, strong enough to sweep her off her feet, yet able to hold their children so sensitively and carefully.

Second, the way he talked and acted. Proud and noble, he would hold his head high with dignity but not arrogance, satisfaction but not self-importance, and his words would be kind and sweet and never harsh, but cautionary if needed. He would whisper beautiful fragments of heaven in her ear when they hugged, and his voice would be like dark, smooth honey that dripped with love and warmth. Mikasa allowed herself a small chuckle at the irony, comparing this fictional young man to the flesh and bone she had managed to fall into.

_He_ was not any of these things. He was dark and broody, coarse and severe, rough and violent; certainly none of the traits parents encouraged their daughters to admire in a suitor, even if he was a most desirable man. And she supposed her parents would have agreed. _Safe is where he should keep you. And yet this man drags your life into jeopardy as often as he replaces the blades of his swords. Why do you let him, Mikasa?_ Her father's voice echoed indignantly in her head, and she bit back a few stray tears. Would he have been disappointed in her?

_I'm sorry Daddy, I…I can't help but love him. I'm sorry._

Mikasa shifted in the small chair, wringing her bare hands in slight guilt. _Yes_. _No_. _No? _She knew her parents would have supported her, stood by her, smiled and cheered for her, even though they wouldn't have approved of her choice. Because she knew they loved her unconditionally and wanted to see her content and lively on this day instead of dreary and morose._ You life is what **you **make it, and no one else_.

She heard Eren frantically call her name from somewhere outside her door, and she sighed in contentment, wishing her parents could see her on this day, the beginning of a new life. Straightening up carefully so she wouldn't disturb the elegant dress, Mikasa walked as gracefully as she could manage to one end of a long aisle where Eren waited for her, dressed in his very best, and he proffered his arm to her, whispering a verse of congratulations.

For the last time, she wondered if she was making the right choice, giving herself wholeheartedly to the man who waited for her at the other end of aisle, his mouth trying not to twitch into a full grin, belying his uncharacteristic bliss.

She cracked her mouth into a small giggle, all memory of that fantasy man from her childhood and innocent years dashed to the wind.

Levi was nothing she had wanted. But he was everything she needed.


	4. Forget-Me-Nots - True Love

**Author's Note: The next eight pieces are my entries for the June 2014 RivaMika Week.**

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_1\. _

Mikasa knew she had never been in love. She thought she had been with Eren, but that was seven years ago now, and Eren had moved on without her, until he was just out of her reach. It had broken her feeble heart to hear the news.

She supposed it hadn't been his fault though. She had tried to tell him, and failed, every time stuttering like a winded fool, and never coming out with the words that she needed to say.

Until it had been too late.

But by then, she knew that he was long gone, and he wasn't looking back, nor had any intention of doing so. He had wished her luck in her own endeavors of love, whatever that was supposed to mean, and gave her one of his boyish smiles, winking at her for some goddamn stupid reason.

She had gotten drunk that night. Cursing and swearing at her impossibly bad luck, and tumbling out of the dirty bar, trying to return to the Scouting Legion's Headquarters. But she had been so inebriated and pitiful in her pain that she had just ended up broken and crying, a heaping mess crouched on the black sidewalk.

And that's when it had happened.

Amidst her salty tears and heaving breaths, she'd seen him stop in front of her, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, dark suit jacket buttoned tightly against his chest.

_"What a waste. A single word of rejection and __**this**__ is what my second-in-command is reduced to? Only a __**girl**__ would cry over a __**boy**__. A __**woman**__ though…is a different matter. Pull yourself together Ackerman."_

He'd snapped at her from above, and when she'd muttered at him to politely _fuck off_, he had knelt down and given her the slap she'd much deserved. And needed.

She'd gone home with him that night, then the next, and the one after, and the one after that. Until it had become a routine: she'd get slammed in some shady bar in the downtown, trying to forget her pain in the bottom of a glass, and he'd come pick her up in the dead of night, always showing up at exactly the right time. And they would stay together until the morning: she would wake on his chest, feeling the contours of the muscle, and his even breathing would soothe her, calm her, _protect_ her, until she fell back asleep again.

She guessed it had been around seven years ago when she absolutely knew. There wasn't a rational explanation, especially when he made it so goddamn difficult to pin down her exact feelings. And some days, she wanted to slit both their throats, to forget the pain of lost loves she knew both of them hid, to lose herself in this cruel world, and to save him from the loss.

But that was unfair. And whenever she saw those narrowed eyes and catlike smirk, felt that raging inferno radiating from his very being, she _knew_. Because she figured _that's_ what it was _supposed_ to feel like. Not the blinding worry and suspicion she had always felt around Eren, nor the annoying prickly feeling she had thought she'd felt with Jean.

This one was different. It burned so hot inside of her, she felt invigorated just by standing next to him. It felt like happiness and bliss and sadness and chaos and hot and cold and angry and infuriating and _just_…like _peace_. Because she'd finally found it.

And she knew she would continue waking up next to him until she couldn't wake up anymore, because _heaven forbid_, she _loved_ him.

And she knew he loved her.

True love, she decided, was something once found, could never be forgotten, nor lost, nor cast aside. It was something to remember and cherish.


	5. Gladioli - Strength

_2._

Levi sucked in a quick breath and raised his fists to eye level, feeling jumpy and slightly out of breath. Ever since he had started giving Mikasa Ackerman hand-to-hand combat lessons, he'd had to work out that much more, just to be sure she wouldn't be able to pass him up. Scowling, he focused on the black dot on the punching bag and began pounding at it, one, two, three times per second, feeling the vibration from the impact travel up his arms every time.

He'd been at this regimen for at least three weeks now, waking up earlier and earlier just so he'd beat her to the gym and get in some quality _alone time_, when he could clear his mind and prepare for whatever Erwin threw at him that day. And whenever she came waltzing in, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his thoughts to himself, feeling very vulnerable in her presence.

Because for some reason, she had that odd effect on him; the bubbly, heart-pounding feeling that he'd missed something vital in his life since…_ever_, and it worried him. It had been for this _exact_ reason he was the way he was: cold, stoic, tough, and seemingly bored with life, because he had seen the way _love_, or whatever that stupid feeling was called, could mess with a perfectly normal person's head, heart, and spirit. And to him, it was most definitely not healthy. It screwed up intelligible thoughts, placed lovers in catastrophic danger, and made people do such irrational things, Levi was _sure_ they wouldn't be themselves ever again.

But that's how it was beginning to feel. Every day she walked into the same room, accidentally touched his hand while handing him something, _purposefully_ punching him in the side so hard it made him feel faint.

And he hated it. And…embraced it?

He swung his fist into the punching bag, a little off target, and the bag swung off its hook, crashing to the ground.

He wasn't strong _enough_. To break this cursed fantasy. And he hated himself, her, for it.

Levi sagged against the wall, bandaged hands crossed in front of his face. He'd have to break it somehow, break the dream. Or was it? Perhaps if he suppressed it all, forced himself to forget, it would _go away_.

But for some reason, deep inside, he felt his mind scream _no, please no, I need this, I can't do this without her_, and he cursed and swore, feeling something wet race down his cheek.

He needed _her? _For what? And why? Captain Levi didn't _need_ anyone. He had had to learn that it was every man for himself at such a painfully early age, and that no one would ever love him because the world wouldn't permit it. His master had always said so. He was a thief, betrayer, _murderer_ and no honor or love would ever come to him willingly, and he would never be able to earn it.

But every smile, gentle touch, soft word that she shared with him, _every one_, knocked him back a few steps and his heart would swell with a strange emotion. It almost felt…happy. But he'd never really known happiness so he couldn't be sure.

Levi sighed, wiping the sweat from his neck, and noticed MIkasa wander in to the gym. She quirked her mouth in that weird half-smile she always gave him when she thought people weren't looking, but frowned at the broken punching bag on the floor. He scowled back, shaking his head, and looked away, not wanting to fall into her dark eyes again, knowing that if he did, he'd drown.

Perhaps it was okay to feel. Perhaps he _did_ need her. Erwin had gotten into the habit of commenting that the Ackermans were the strongest team he'd ever encountered, but that one couldn't exactly work without the other. So maybe having feelings was stronger than not.

He stood up, stripping off the sweaty shirt, and gave a slight nod back to Mikasa, who was already pounding away furiously at a second punching bag that she'd hung up, and turned to leave for the showers.

"You don't have to be alone, Captain," he heard her murmur at his back. "It's okay to feel weak. Just as long as someone is willing to help you through it." He could hear her voice waver just the slightest bit.

"I am."


	6. Apple Blossoms - Hope

_3\. _

Mikasa remembered the first time she had really, _truly_ hoped for something. Holding her son, she had realized that some things were just too peaceful and sacred to just brush off as bad luck, and this was one of them.

She'd gone through hell those first few years, always questioning her decision, and wondering if her heart was really in it. Levi had always told her to just _go with it,_ and gazing into his calm face, she had always complied.

But that had been before the accident.

It had been after they had finally married, seventeen years seemed so long ago now, when it happened. Two months after she had tearfully shared the news that she was pregnant, that they were going to be parents, that Levi, you're going to be a _father_, Erwin had sent him to his death, leaving her and their child alone. And her soul had ripped in half.

She had wanted to end it then. If she couldn't have Levi, then no one could, not even their child. Eren had had to hide all of the blades in their quarters, Armin had to set up a nightly watch over her, Jean and the rest of their squad had to always be on their guard, even off duty, so that she wouldn't dare to try. Six months she had wallowed and shriveled into a shell, the burden weighing heavily on her shoulders, the burden she chose to carry.

And then, and _then_, he had arrived. Her son, _Levi's_ son, had burst into this world, and the first time she held him, the ache Levi's death had left her suddenly dissipated, like it was thin smoke. Like it had never been there in the first place.

And as the years passed, she had felt her heart slowly fill with strength again. Because he was _almost_ there, reflected in his son. Every time she saw his face, heard his voice, noticed his mannerisms, she had to fight her pounding heart, and push down those feelings of longing. But she was comforted by her son, because even though he wasn't Levi, he lifted her failing hope, showing her that beautiful things could spring from tragic ones, and that though the world was a terrible, cruel place, it was also unpredictable and harmonious.

She would always miss him. And even if their son had to grow up without a father, she would never trade this life for one cut short without him. He was now Humanity's Strongest, taking after his strong father and bringing hope to the citizens within the Walls.

Perhaps it had been Levi's time. Her mother had always told her that the brightest flower always wilted the quickest, no matter how well you kept it trimmed and watered. So perhaps Levi had been called back, and had sent his son to replace him. At least that's how Mikasa thought of it; for as long as she had known him, Levi had never left her, and he had promised he never would.

Hope was possibly the greatest double-edged sword she had known. Sometimes it gave false feelings to those unlucky ones, but sometimes it held great power, with the strength of a thousand men. Hope was fickle, just like her cousin Fate, and she blessed only those who were willing to sacrifice all. And Mikasa felt she was indeed worthy of Hope's fatal kiss. She'd had nothing else to offer.

She would make it through this life, however long she had left of it, and though unknowing, her son would help her with it too.

Levi already had. And she prayed for the day she'd be reunited with him. She _knew_ it was coming soon.


	7. Narcissus - Rebirth

_4\. _

For some reason she couldn't pin down, she felt she had known him from some time before. But that was impossible, because she would have remembered him; that scowl, those piercing eyes, that ridiculous haircut. Every time he happened to pass her in the hall or demand for her to _get inside the goddamn office __**now**_, her mind reeled with hazy images of swords and monsters, and her heart jumped inside her sweater.

When she had started working for the company, her brother Eren had warned her about the formidable CEO and his second-in-command, but she had laughed it off, saying that she hadn't graduated top of her class for nothing and that she had been looking for a challenge anyway. Eren had shrugged it off, muttering something about _that bastard_, whoever he was, and wished her good luck on her first day. She'd quickly learned just how much Eren had been right to warn her.

The moment she stepped through the door of Erwin Smith, her new boss, she had immediately crashed into someone else who was just leaving, and had fallen, her organized papers scattering all over the floor. Mumbling a hasty apology and burning red with embarrassment, she had tried to gather her things, hoping the person she had bumped into wouldn't take it too hard, and would perhaps even help her with the mess.

But all she had gotten in response for her humiliation was a curse and a "_Watch where you're fucking going!_" from the shorter person. Erwin had apologized for him after he left, whoever he was, and gave her a tight smile, saying Levi Ackerman was someone not to be messed with, especially if he hadn't had his coffee.

_Ackerman…that's __**my**__ name!_

Though initially she had been surprised to her hear own name tacked on to this graceless man, she knew they weren't related; many people shared the same last name, and it wasn't anything new to gossip over. At least so she thought. Whispers flew around the rest of the employees, speculation rising that she and the vice CEO were brother and sister, maybe even _married_, and Levi didn't make it any better. He would go out of his way to order her around, making life in the office building a miserable hell, and he continually brought up the incident from before, making her feel even guilty every time. Eren had offered to send in her two weeks' notice, but Mikasa had refused vehemently. _"I'm not about to let some shorty with a bad attitude force me from my new job. I've worked too hard to land this position, and heaven help him if he think he can just make me quit because he doesn't like me!" _

So Eren had backed off, as well as her other friends from college, and she remained at the company, working twice as hard and saying nothing about Levi Ackerman's behavior.

But as the months flew by, she had begun to feel something different other than irritation and frustration at him. Though he hadn't let up his dirty habit of annoying her to the ends of the earth, he had softened in his attitude toward her. She wondered if it was because he was getting bored with her persistent non-reactions.

Sometimes she caught him staring at her, for no apparent reason, and she always felt as if he were digging through her head, trying to find something lost there. Whenever she walked into his office to drop off the day's work, he scrambled to hide something, something red. And she felt like he was keeping something that was hers from her.

But that was impossible. Because she had never even seen him before she had started working for this company.

Today, though, was different. Levi had said absolutely nothing to her from the time she walked out of the elevator at 8:20 this morning, to the time she walked out of the office building at 5:30. In fact, she had barely seen him today, and she wondered if he was intentionally avoiding her. But the change was nice, since she had had a clear head without Levi breathing down her neck and criticizing every single thing she was doing.

She was now seated at a small table in front of a bookstore, waiting for her friend Armin to drop off a volume he had borrowed earlier that week. Her legs were tired from standing most of the day, and her tea was getting cold as the sun drooped below the horizon.

"You left this at the office. Ackerman." The growl in the voice startled her, but it felt strangely comforting. Odd.

Closing her eyes in preparation for the scathing remarks she knew were bound to jump from his mouth, she nodded her head, "Thank you, sir. I must have left them in my hurry to leave." She took the papers from him and pinched her mouth, waiting.

"We aren't related."

The statement was so sudden and unexpected that her eyes flew open and she gave him a questioning look. "I never said we were. If we were related, I would have remembered meeting you, and I don't. Sir." Mikasa stared at him, suddenly regretting she hadn't ever truly met him.

Levi narrowed his eyes and adjusted his suit jacket. Flipping the tail back, he sat down in front of her and crossed his legs, staring back at her face intently. "Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"Like I said before, sir, I think I would have remembered you if we had. You are not an easy person to forget," Mikasa took a sip from her cold tea. "Though I would like to know what you are doing out of the office at this time. Your schedule placed you in a meeting with Mr. Smith."

"Canceled." Levi waved his hand and leaned back in his chair. "Erwin had a…_date_ with Ms. Zoe. Something about getting funding for her research." He suddenly brought his hand down hard on the table, almost upsetting her cup. "Ackerman. There's something I need to ask you."

Mikasa's insides churned, and her heart sped up. Erwin and Levi had a nasty habit of asking her to run small errands for them, even when she wasn't working, but tonight she had plans and wasn't about to let Levi ruin them. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm a little busy tonight. Perhaps I would be able to–"

"Is this yours?" Levi asked softly, the words tumbling from his usually harsh mouth. Mikasa thought it suited him better.

From within his jacket, he drew out a red scarf, neatly folded, its ends a bit tattered and the color slightly faded. It looked like it hadn't been worn recently. Or ever.

But Mikasa recognized it. And the moment he brought it out, she knew it was the item he had always rushed to hide from her in the office. For a good reason too.

"Of course that's mine!" Mikasa cried, wondering where in the hell he had gotten it. She had never worn it to work, and the last place she had seen it had been in a box in her closet when she was still in school. "How did you get this?" she murmured, turning suspicious. "I've been looking for it."

Levi's eyes grew, and his face softened. "I've had it for a long time. Can't remember when I found it. Must have been years ago now. I've been looking for the owner to return it, but no one's claimed it until now." He sighed and turned to watch the cars pass by on the nearby street. "I've had my suspicions that it was yours though. But I can't tell you how."

She let out a deep breath, knowing exactly how he was feeling. For some reason, she had always felt a little unexplainably empty. But whenever he was around, it filled with a peaceful feeling, one that told her she needed to look no further. But that was absurd, because it wasn't _love_. Nor was it desire or longing, or even allure. It was the same feeling she felt with Eren, the feeling of family and burning warmth and _protection_. Was she _attracted_ to him? To Levi Ackerman? Impossible. All he did was use her and criticize her and mentally fatigue her, and she hadn't ever felt charmed by his presence. But she _had_ felt guarded, safe, secure. Her mind was too far gone to even chase down this sense of stability it had settled into with Levi.

_Did other people have this feeling around him?_

Mikasa slumped in her chair, gathering the red cloth to her face and clasping the ends tightly. It smelled of an exotic musk odor, and she immediately recognized it as Levi's scent, the same she always smelled before he sauntered through his office door, whenever he walked past.

"You're positive we've never met before?" Levi tried again, but this time his voice bled hope. "There must have been some way I knew…I just _knew_…never mind. You're right. I would have remembered you as well."

Mikasa nodded, suddenly feeling slightly overwhelmed. This wasn't the side of Levi Ackerman she was used to. But it was one that she much preferred, even if she was used to his constant bickering.

"Thank you for returning my scarf to me," Mikasa gave a small smile, still wondering how in the world he had gotten it in the first place.

Levi stood to leave, brushing off invisible lint on his jacket and pants. He nodded in response. "Ackerman. I guess I'll be leaving. See you in the morning. And don't forget those papers." He raised an eyebrow, daring her to protest.

But she just smiled back and said, "Of course, sir." She stood up to say goodbye, "But I'd like to know how you came by my scarf sometime. You still haven't told me."

"A question for another time, Ackerman. How about tomorrow? Same place. I'll answer all your prying questions into my private life," Levi smirked over his shoulder. "Don't be late."

"Fine. But only if you buy the tea. _Ackerman_." Mikasa replied, the same bite in her voice matching his.

As she watched him walk away, she felt the empty feeling return and her heart rate fall. So. A date with the infamous Levi Ackerman. Perhaps it wasn't a bad thing, to be recognized and sought out by the company's most unyielding executive officer. Though for different reasons other than to be a personal servant.

But she felt as if this was somehow _right_. Like she had finally found what she was looking for.

And though this challenge would be her hardest yet, she would greet it willingly, so long as that feeling would never go away.


	8. Violets - Loyalty

**Author's Note: This short is not for the faint of heart. Ambiguity has never been one of my strong suits.**

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_5._

_Verdict: Guilty of all charges. Penalty: Sentenced to death. Mode: Seppuku._

That had been the opposing clan's decision earlier that afternoon, but they had agreed to allow Levi to die honorably, instead of as a traitor. And now Mikasa sat, blank and unfeeling, outside of Levi's cell, unsure of what to say or do. He gave her his characteristic scowl, trying to show her he was unafraid of his future. Or lack thereof.

"I can't do this, Levi. You promised I wouldn't have to," she gripped the cold iron of the bars, refusing to look into his face, and knowing that if she did, the tears would drown her. Instead, she stared at his stomach, dreading the next few hours.

He was dressed in the typical garb in preparation for the ceremony, a white _kimono_, plain and rough, and it had fallen open, revealing the taut, smooth skin. Images of the impending slash drifted across her mind, and she fought herself, holding onto what little hope she had left.

"We knew the consequences, Mikasa. We knew, and we still decided to go through with it," Levi crossed his legs, looking as if he were getting ready for bed instead of waltzing with Death. "We had to. All for him. So _he_ could grow up in a country of peace, and take up the _katana_ to help people instead of butcher them. Do you understand?" he closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

"But what about _now_, Levi?" Mikasa leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the bars. Her strength was failing her. "I _can't_ do what you've asked me to do. You _can't_ expect me to…"

"I can and I will," Levi snapped. "We've no other choice. You're the only skilled enough swordsman to complete the ritual. I won't let anyone else do it." His voice softened, and suddenly, it wavered as the next words floated by her ears. "If I'm going to die, it will be on my _own_ terms. And if I'm going to plunge that _tantō_ into my own gut, _you_ will be my _kaishakunin_." He opened his eyes and cupped her cheek. "The last thing I want to see is your face, Mikasa, and only yours."

Mikasa choked, and her tears blurred her vision, stinging the unhealed, small cuts on her face. She'd never thought she'd be asked to be someone's _kaishakunin_, let alone the one for the man she loved.

"You're strong, Mikasa. I know you can do this. Grant me a swift and painless death from this harsh world."

The expansive room felt claustrophobic and Mikasa felt suffocated. Her heart was pounding a tattoo against her chest and her grip on the _katana_ trembled.

Levi was brought in and forced to kneel in the center of the room, and a selection of knives were laid out in front of him. Indistinct whispering flitted across the room and she saw Levi nod in response to one of the opposing clan's soldiers, an affirmative that he was ready.

Her steps grew heavy, each bringing her closer to Levi and yet further away from him. She had dried her eyes and adjusted her kimono to look every bit the ruthless warrior she was known to be, but her insides were empty, and they were threatening to collapse in on themselves any minute.

_Why Levi? We could have done this together._

The sword in her hand gleamed clean and sharp, and she strained her arm, the weight of the metal feeling hot and stifling.

_Can I do this? Can I perform the kaishaku on my Captain? My husband? Can I…? _

Levi inclined his head toward her as she came forward, drawing a finger across the back of his neck lightly, showing her where to make the cut. "Look at me while you do it," he murmured as she knelt behind him. "I want to see your face."

Mikasa swallowed, her stomach in knots and her heart in her throat. She had a duty to him, as his second-in-command, and though it was cruel and heartless, she would give him what he had asked for. Her mind was made up. Her face hard and emotionless, she looked straight ahead, not daring to think about the imminent bloodshed.

A word from the chief of their rival clan and the soldiers standing guard over Levi bowed, almost mockingly, and moved away to stand by the walls of the room. "You have ten minutes, former Captain Levi Ackerman-_san_ of the Scouting Legion. _Traitors_, you lot," he spat. "We welcome your death with many thanks, and we praise you for your sacrifice so that you may keep your honor. _Ten minutes_."

Levi said nothing in return and only blinked at Mikasa, his eyes soft and as furiously black as the day she had met him. Life burned in those eyes, life she would soon extinguish. "Is he here?" the words sounding dull and forlorn.

Mikasa shook her head slightly, keeping one eye on the rival chief, looking for any deception in his sweaty face. Seeing none, she bit her lip and shook her head again. "I wouldn't allow him to. This is not something a child should see from his parents."

Levi sighed, content. "We have taught him well. May the Dragon watch over him in his training and lead him down the right path. Erwin will come for him later tonight."

"_Five_ minutes!" the command came again, this time more impatient.

"End it Mikasa. _End it now_."

Her eyelids fluttered as she stood up slowly and reached for the scabbard. Holding it in the customary position, she awaited Levi's movements, her heart slowing down to almost nothing.

This was it then. This was how it ended. A failed revolution and her husband's death by her own hand. What better way to admit defeat?

Levi reached for the _tantō_ nearest him, and with one quick strike, plunged the knife into the fair skin of his abdomen, red dripping down the knife and onto the pristine floor.

Mikasa felt her world shatter.

He stared at her, mouth slightly open in surprise at the pain, and scarlet beginning to color the corners of his lips, those soft lips she had so often kissed and had caressed in the dead of night. She never would again.

But his eyes calmed her. Because they weren't full of regret or pain or misery. Instead, peace washed into them, the black irises slowly shifting to a dark blue, Death's final gift.

Clenching her teeth, Mikasa took up the _katana_, her body feeling sluggish and dumb. Locking her own eyes to his fading ones, she brought the sword down, wishing she could join him in Hell. The blade fell, exactly on the invisible line on Levi's neck and she cursed and swore inside her head, damning whatever god had sanctioned this cruel fate.

Blood streaks showered the cloth of her _kimono_, Life's wine pouring from the body of her dead husband. It collapsed in a heap of bloody limbs and tears, and Mikasa fell to her knees, the warm liquid seeping into her clothes. She rocked back and forth, a twisted grimace on her face, and she ran her fingers through the growing pool of blood from Levi's corpse. Following the rituals of their clan, she marked her face in the distinct pattern of a new widow, never taking her eyes off of the head of her husband. It was still attached to the body, just as _kaishaku _governed. She hadn't failed him.

Drawing a trembling hand over his face, she closed his icy blue eyes, and waited for the attendants to come and take him away, away to the pyre that had already been prepared. She would mourn for weeks.

Following the attendants outside, she drew a white veil over her face, her breathing uneven and coming out in quick gasps. She was still the loyal wife, even if that loyalty meant losing the humanity she had left.

The burning lasted through the night and she stayed until the fire was completely dead, well into the morning of the next day. Levi's deathday passed and the sun rose, streaming cold sunlight onto the blackened pyre, the body now entirely disintegrated; there was nothing left of her beloved husband anymore.

She had done it. Fulfilled his last wish. But part of her soul had been swept away with him, and they said that a person with half a soul was always the most dangerous and deadly. She'd keep fighting for Levi's honor, until the day they regained their clan's land again and when his ashes could finally rest in his own home, instead of the being held prisoner in the castle of the rival clan's chief. If she couldn't do it with Levi, she'd do it with their son, this time with no mistakes.

Clenching her fists until her nails drew blood from her palms, she made no struggle against the guards that came to take her away. She'd no doubt be claimed as a trophy now, but that was fine with her. As long as she was alive, she promised herself, Levi would not have died in vain.

_I've done as you asked, dear husband. Let those who oppose us fear our wrath and retribution. Vengeance is coming. _


	9. Chrysanthemums - Perfection

**Author's Note: The next two pieces were written in the same future AU I made up and should be read together.**

* * *

_6._

She had come home that day madder than a bat out of hell, and Levi knew at once it would take at least a few days to calm down her fury. The front door slammed (Levi _swore_ he heard glass shatter) and her advancing stomps toward the living room told him that he needed to _get out of her spot __**now**_, or there would be literal hell to pay. Moving over to the chair by the window, he picked up one of his swords and began cleaning the metal, trying to look busy. This was going to be a long day.

Muttering to herself and cursing softly, his daughter entered the room, her eyes puffy and on fire and her hands clenched by her sides. Her face was streaked with tear tracks and her once pristine Trainees' Corps uniform was in tatters and stained with dirt. At thirteen, Amaya closely resembled her mother, save her eyes, which were darker and narrower, and her temper, which Mikasa cursed Levi for bestowing upon their only daughter.

Amaya entered and stood in the doorway for a few moments, her bottom lip quivering, and then she suddenly rushed toward her father. Levi scrambled to twist the blade out of the way, dropping it to the floor behind him and wondering what the hell happened _today_. His children never seemed to leave trouble's realms and it was all he could ask for to get a single day's rest without having a yelling competition or something ending up in a million pieces.

But looking at his daughter's face, he knew immediately that it wasn't her he should be worried about.

"I'm never going back there again Father! _Never._" She ground her teeth and buried her face into Levi's shirt. Before he could stop her, she yanked the cravat from his neck and rubbed her eyes, trying to dry them with the sleek fabric. "They said awful things about you and Mother. And how y-you're…_murderers_. And that you-you're nothing but a military _dog _and that you did something _awful_ to Mother–"

"Ami." Levi said firmly. "_Who_ are you talking about? You were supposed to be with the Springers today for training. Your mother and I are about to leave for an expedition–"

"But you should have _heard_ them Father! They _insulted_ you and said that you tarnished the Ackerman name and that I was the product of inbred, lying, cheating, thieving _murderers_ and that we're _scum_–"

"_Amaya!_" Levi gripped his daughter's shoulders, staring darkly into her broken face. He wiped away a few tears with his thumb, and she pushed stray strands of black hair from her eyes. "Breathe. You need to tell me _who_."

Amaya whimpered, her chest heaving, and she clutched Levi's uniform jacket. "The older kids in my class," she sniffled and shook her head. "I tried to t-t-tell them what you and Mother told me but they w-wouldn't listen and p-p-pushed me into the mud. They hit me a few times after and said I deserved it," she hiccupped and shoved her face into Levi's chest again. His heart pounded with bitterness; it hurt him to see her cry.

"And _where_ were you? You're supposed to be at Connie and Sasha's right now, and then to your Uncle's house. Eren is going to worry and I'm going to hear about it later." Levi muttered, but straightened and gently lifted his daughter, swinging her legs over his arms, and set her on the nearby couch. "Where are your brothers?"

She coughed and swallowed hard, taking a few moments to answer. "Sora's at Uncle Armin's doing his re-research," Amaya said, blinking her eyes and gazing at her hands. They were covered in small cuts. "And Rin was with Vivienne at the Scouting Legion Headquarters." She hiccupped again. "They left me at the Plaza this morning."

Levi narrowed his eyes. _Vivienne._ Vivienne _Kirstein_. He and Mikasa had had problems with that girl, and her father was doing his best to _not_ help. He sighed. Something to discuss with his eldest later.

"Why do they hate us, Daddy? I'm just like them. I'm not any different." Amaya stared at her father, dark eyes glassy. "Right? I'm _not_ different…I'm _exactly_ like them…" she trailed off, and Levi was afraid the maelstrom would flood again.

He sighed and gathered her small frame to him, her head leaning on his chest. "You're _not_ like those kids, Ami. You _are_ different." Levi could feel the rage begin to boil inside his stomach and he wanted to wring the necks of those who would dare to hurt his daughter.

His _daughter._ His beautiful, tenacious, reckless pride and joy. Of all his children, Amaya was the one who took the most after him: shy, soft-spoken, and astoundingly brilliant, yet aggressive, headstrong, and foul-mouthed at times. Mikasa thought it was because of this that Ami shared a surprisingly close bond with him, closer than her two older brothers. In her eyes, Levi Ackerman, Captain of the Scouting Legion, Humanity's Strongest, her _father_, was the best man in the world, and no one could tell her any different. In return, Levi had sworn to inflict swift retribution and promised _pain_ to any and all who threatened his little girl, something his wife had frowned at and scolded him for later, saying it was quite over-the-top and a little too intense.

For now though, Amaya needed him to be a father, and not some mad-eyed soldier yearning for bloodlust. "You're not at all like those…_children_, Ami. Your mother and I taught you better than that."

"But why do they hate us? I didn't do anything to them!" her small voice growled. Her nimble fingers picked at the strap across Levi's chest and she buckled and unbuckled it, playing with the tough leather.

"Because they don't _understand_ the way you do. You know better from what we've told you. Does it matter what they think?"

Mikasa strained her ears from her place in the hallway and leaned against the wall. Peering around the corner, she saw the back of her husband's head above the couch, his hand gently stroking her daughter's disheveled hair. Mikasa smiled at the serene scene before her; Amaya always brought out the hidden tranquility within Levi, no matter how frustrated he was. She was his weakness and Mikasa teased him about it constantly.

The floor creaked below her boots and Levi's sharp ears picked up the offending sound. Swiveling his head to face her, he frowned and shook his head, warning her not to come closer.

Ah. So it had been _that_ kind of day.

Mikasa nodded and kept her place in the doorway, not wanting to disturb the two. Due to multiple small missions between the Walls, Levi hadn't been able to spend a lot of time with Amaya lately, something she had complained about profusely for the past few days. Mikasa figured he could spare these few moments with her before they left for the Commander's next mission.

"You're _better_ than that, Ami. That's something you already know. Your mother and I will deal with those bullies after we return in a few weeks, but you'll have to rely on your own strength while we're gone. What have I told you?" Levi eyed his wife from behind Amaya's head, and Mikasa could sense the suppressed fury residing in his face. The trip out to the Walls would not be a pleasant one.

"Not to fight back. Cause that's what they want," Amaya chanted, her father's words memorized.

"And did you?"

Silence.

"Is that why your uniform is ruined?"

Silence.

"I know it's hard Ami. But you need to learn to–"

"–pick my battles carefully. I _know_ Daddy. I just didn't want to hear them say bad things about you and Mother anymore." Amaya took a deep breath and sat up. She handed the damp cravat back to her father. "Sorry," she murmured.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. I should have taken care of those little sh– "

"_What_ your father means to say, is that we'll do everything we can to make this right again," Mikasa offered, knowing Levi was about to say something obscene. "You have nothing to be sorry about Ami," she repeated and walked around the couch to sit next to her daughter. "But we'll do our best to _talk_ to those kids' parents," she glared at Levi over Amaya's head, "and have a little chat with Shadis-_sensei_. It's the same three kids, right? Parents are–"

"Military police." Amaya nodded, and leaned into her mother's side.

"There's nothing we can do about it now, Ami. But let's get you cleaned up and ready to go to Eren's. He's probably worried sick," Mikasa hugged her daughter, hoping Eren would be able to offer more help in her absence. "You're not hurt are you?"

"I think I got a little bruised," Amaya said, her voice a little stronger and her eyes dry. "But I think I hurt them more than they hurt me," she giggled, looking very pleased with herself. "That big guy in my class? I think I gave him a black eye with my elbow the way Daddy taught me. In _both_ eyes!" she snickered.

Mikasa raised an eyebrow at Levi. It had been such a _perfect_ moment.

"Ami, you _know_ you can't go around doing that," she chastised, standing up and adjusting the straps on her hip. Mikasa sighed. She _definitely_ took after her father.

"We'll deal with that later," Levi rushed out, grimacing, knowing Mikasa would berate him for it later. "We have to report in to Erwin in half an hour. Ami, clean yourself up and get ready for Eren's. Your brothers will meet you there." He stood up as well and leaned down to pick up the sword he had tossed away earlier.

"Okay, okay," Ami jumped off the couch and ran down the hall to her room, slamming the door. Levi flinched at the sound.

"Our daughter's getting into fights earlier than her brothers?" Mikasa turned to him, her face hard.

"She said they were saying nasty things about us. Can't really blame them since we _did_ do a few unforgivable things in our younger years, but hey," he shrugged, "she needs to know how to defend herself. And I'll be a goddamned _titan_ before I let some fucking third-rate _bullies_ tell my daughter they know her parents better than herself." Levi buckled his gear on and sheathed the blade, walking around to the front door. "Besides, her pride wouldn't let her anyway."

Mikasa closed her eyes, silently admitting there was some truth to her husband's words. Levi had put it less eloquently, but it was true, Amaya and Sora and Rin would fight tooth and nail to defend their parents' honor, but someone was bound to fight back sooner or later. "We'll talk about it later Levi," she drew closer to him and leaned down to tighten the strap on his right thigh. "You always let this one get too loose."

Levi raised her, his rough hand on hers. "I need you to do _some _work around here Ackerman," he smirked, giving her a quick kiss on the back of her hand.

"Because you do _any_?" Mikasa cocked her head and leaned in, closing the small gap between their lips, and she basked in his warmth, the feeling never failing to send slight shivers down her neck and into her core. She wrapped a hand around the back of his head, running her fingers through the close-shaven hair there and playing with the longer strands falling around his crown. "_Ackerman_."

And Levi responded, his hands suddenly on her back and around her waist, holding her in a tight embrace, and his lips danced with hers, soft and tingling, while his teeth nipped at the corner of her mouth. "You always were a stubborn woman," he breathed, hissing into her ear, and Mikasa melted, his harsh voice causing her heart to moan with desire and long for night to fall.

"_Ugh!_ _Mother! Father!_" Amaya screeched from the hallway, forcing Mikasa to break away from her husband, lamenting the fleeting passionate moment. "I don't _want_ any more brothers, thank you very _much_."

"That's not for you to decide," Levi straightened his jacket and crossed his arms. Mikasa punched him in the shoulder.

"_Whatever_. Are we gonna go?" Amaya walked past her parents and out the door, looking nauseated.

"Ah, excuse me young lady. _What_ is in your pocket?" Mikasa whipped around, noticing a strange bulge in her daughter's jacket as she scooted out the door. "Hand it over_._"

"But _Daddy_ gave it to me! He _said_–"

"_I don't care_ what your father said. _Hand it over_–"

Their voices were cut short as the door shut behind them and Levi was left alone, shaking his head. If he wasn't going to die from a titan, it would be from the constant bickering between his wife and daughter, and he figured between the two, the titan would be the more peaceful way to go. Following them out, he replaced his cravat and mounted his waiting horse, daughter and mother saddled and ready to go but still squabbling, and they set off, the sun just beginning its fall from the highest point in the sky.

His family wasn't perfect, but it was times like these when he thought it was. And he'd do everything to protect what little peace they had been granted.


	10. Baby's Breath - Innocence

_7._

"Mom, I _can't_, it's too hard and you-you're too fast," Sora panted, his hands on his knees and his face dripping. His two 3DMG swords lay tossed to the side, the wires dangling from his waist.

"We're not through yet," Mikasa wiped her face with the back of her hand and looked skeptically at her middle child. At nineteen, he was still lanky and not yet filled out like his older brother, and he lacked the strength to carry his own weight, a requirement for joining one of the squads of the Scouting Legion. "A few times more, Sora. Your father is coming back in a week and expects you to pass the assessment before he returns."

"_Mom_. You know I can't pass in a _week_. I shouldn't even be joining the Scouting Legion anyway," Sora frowned and waved a hand over his face.

"And whose fault is that? Who was the one who said he was going to be _just like dad_–"

"_Mom_. I was _seven_. I didn't know it was required to actually _see_ the things we were ordered to kill," Sora said bitterly. He sighed and faced his mother, the milky blue irises of his eyes boring holes into Mikasa's chest.

Sora had been born blind, an impairment that had kept him from joining the Trainees' Squad at the usual age, and though he was an intelligent kid with brains rivaling Armin Arlert's, his dream had been to join the Scouting Legion under his father's squad. It was something his parents had been against since the very beginning: _"Without your eyes you'd be a burden to your squadmates, and that is not something we can force on them. It's dangerous as it is, and we can't afford to lose any more men. We're sorry, Sora."_ They had done everything they could to protect him from the military's reaches, even going so far as to send him to the Capitol to keep him from the Trainees' campground.

But of course he had defied them (Mikasa thought it was unusual for her children to follow any rules at all); a few years ago he had snuck out with his older brother Rin to try out Levi's old 3DMG in the dead of night. Discovering what Rin had done, Levi and Mikasa had chased them through the nearby forest, believing that the boy tailing Rin was one of his friends and not their blind son. By the time they had caught up with them, Sora had been sitting comfortably on a branch of a tree, grinning triumphantly, and Levi and Mikasa had been speechless.

So here he was now, attempting to perfect the use of the 3DMG even though he was debilitated. If he managed to pass the assessment, he'd be the first blind soldier the military had ever recruited. His unnatural hearing and sense of direction helped him during the basic trainees' tests, but his final assessment was coming up and Mikasa had warned him it would be an entirely different experience. He'd need to demonstrate the precise cutting technique normal eyes would allow him to perform, and so far his cuts had either been off by a few inches or too shallow.

"You're going to have to figure it out, Sora. I know this is a lot to go through, but I can only help you so far," Mikasa flipped one of her blades into her husband's signature backhand grip, and Sora jerked his head at the sound, the slight whizzing sound of cutting air sinking into his sensitive ears. He furrowed his eyebrows, anticipating his mother's attack, and picked up his own swords, his head turning as he strained to hear Mikasa's movements.

Closing his eyes, he brought the swords into a defensive position, waiting for his mother to make the first move. She swung to his left, bringing the sword down on his shoulder but he managed to swerve out of the way and rolled to her right.

_Strike to the left, then a full turn and strike to the right. Thigh-high. Jump!_ His mind scrambled to predict the succession of attacks and dodging his mother's other blade, he flipped his right sword into a backhand and twirled into his own attack.

_Clang!_ His two blades bit into his mother's as she blocked the cutting attack and she nodded her head. "Good, Sora." She jumped back, examining the tiny nicks in the metal where Sora's swords had hit. "Only off by an inch this time. Force was good. Judging by how deep the nicks are, I'd say you need to add a little more strength. Much better."

Sora nodded, sheathing the blades and releasing the handles. "Rin's teaching me Father's attack. I'm not as fast as him though, so I don't have the power behind it like Rin does." He panted. "Can we be done now? I still have to do that atrocious workout Dad left me."

"_Yes, you do_," a low voice drawled, and Mikasa whipped around to see her husband walking across the field to where they stood.

"Levi! You weren't supposed to be back until _next_ week!" she exclaimed, her face incredulous but full of relief. Whenever Levi left her, she worried deeply, sometimes locking herself in their room for hours, saying, doing, eating nothing. And every time he came back to her, alive and unharmed (mostly), her soul would rejoice and she'd give thanks to whatever god would listen.

"Mission was successful. Squad cleared out the rest of the titans in that town on the border, and Erwin decided we'd earned a break. Only two lost this time," Levi said quietly, and stopped in front of his wife and son, crossing his arms. His green cloak hung over his arm and a deep cut inked the side of one of his cheeks. One of his hands held a few ripped pieces of cloth, bloodied blue and white peeking through his fingers, and Mikasa knew he'd be up late tonight, writing condolence letters and drinking the pain away.

Mikasa's eyes widened, her heart picking up speed. Rin had been placed in his father's squad. She swallowed and looked questioningly at Levi, preparing for the worst. She hoped to high heaven her son's patch wasn't in Levi's hand.

But he shook his head, silently telling her that their oldest hadn't been one of the two killed, and she breathed out quickly, closing her eyes. She'd sleep peacefully tonight, knowing her family was safe and unbroken.

"Sora," Levi turned to his middle child, narrowing his eyes.

"Father," Sora nodded in his direction. "Mother says I'm improving. I've been practicing all–"

"No matter how much practice you get, it won't prepare you for the real thing. We're going out beyond the Wall tomorrow. You've been sheltered enough." Levi's eyes were hard and his words were clipped.

"_Levi!_" Mikasa swiveled to face her husband and slammed down the swords into the dirt, leaving them quivering where they stood. "He hasn't even passed the _assessment!_ You can't place him up against a _real_ titan just yet!" she said harshly, her voice rising. "This was _his_ decision, not yours. He should–"

"There's _nothing _to discuss. We leave at 0600 hours tomorrow morning, Sora," Levi interrupted her and turned on his heel, black hair whipping in the light breeze.

Mikasa's heart sank. Biting her lip, she turned back to her son, who was staring blank-faced at his father's back, his hands clasped behind him. "Sora," she said softly, "I'll talk to your father. You know how he gets after…after…" she couldn't bring herself to say it. She'd watched and heard too many of her comrades die before her eyes, and watched and heard Levi grief at the losses, too many to count now.

"_Mom_. I…I think I can do it," Sora didn't move from his position, eyes still focused on Levi's retreating back. "If Father thinks I'm ready, I must be. I'll try." His voice wavered ever so slightly and Mikasa wanted to embrace him in a crushing hug and never let go.

"Let's go back to the house, Sora. We'll talk about it later tonight." But Mikasa could hear the doubt and hopelessness flooding into her own voice.

"Levi, _talk_ to me. You can't just expect Sora to go out there and be exactly like Rin. His eyes–"

"I _know_ about his eyes, Mikasa. Don't lecture me," Levi snapped from the bathroom. Dinner had been a quiet affair, neither Levi nor Mikasa speaking to each other, and their children hadn't dared to say a word either, knowing it was best to keep quiet, lest a violent argument break out.

"Then you know we must take certain _precautions_ to make sure he stays safe. He's going to end up a liability if you throw him in too early!" Mikasa retorted back, her frustration slowly rising.

Levi walked into their bedroom, dressed in nothing but his sleeping pants and Mikasa could see multiple new cuts decorating his pale skin, some serrated and larger than others. She lowered her eyes. Those definitely weren't cuts from the 3DMG swords, and Levi was skilled enough to not cut himself with the wires.

"Tell me you didn't."

"I had no other choice. My squad was ordered to take back the town. The bandits refused to leave peacefully," Levi said coldly as he slid into bed next to her.

Mikasa swallowed, wondering just how many he had to kill for the mission to be successful. She wrung her hands, winding the sheets between her fists.

"Twelve." Levi said sharply, answering her unspoken question. "Twelve bullets, twelve people." He said softly. "Rin stayed back."

"So you'll protect Rin but throw Sora in danger?" Mikasa grabbed her husband's hand, running her fingers over the rough calluses and massaging the palm. "You _know_ how much passing this test means to him. If you take him out there now…you'll only make him doubt himself more." She leaned into Levi's side, tracing the scars on his chest and earning her a faint hiss from his lips.

"He'll never learn if he doesn't experience that fear. He needs to learn to act on his feet," Levi breathed, and Mikasa ran a hand down his stomach, feeling the low pulse beneath his hot skin.

"Not _now_ though. Let him pass the Trainees' test. _Then_ take him beyond the Wall," Mikasa scowled, irritated that Levi refused to comply. Her first duty was to be a mother and _then_ a soldier, something Levi oftentimes forgot.

"Mikasa…"

"Just sleep on it, Levi. We'll talk about it in the morning. You're exhausted and tired, and you're hurt. Just…_rest_," Mikasa pulled him down further into the bed, kicking the sheets away so that there was nothing between them. "_You've been gone for so long._"

"Sleep, eh?" Levi asked, his voice taking on a throaty timber. "You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Ackerman," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

Turning out the lamp, Mikasa rolled over, never taking her eyes off her husband's. She'd won the argument from today, but she knew Levi would be merciless tonight, rough in his lovemaking and relentless in his passion.

But that was okay, as long as her children were safe tonight, so she would be just as intense, knowing this might well be the last time they ever made love.

Trailing kisses down her back, Levi growled, and Mikasa shivered from the savage sound, growing more and more lascivious as he stripped the rest of his clothes.

Problems forgotten, she whimpered excitedly. Tonight would be a night to remember.


	11. Lilies - Freedom

**Author's Note: This marks the end of the pieces I wrote for the June 2014 RivaMika Week.**

* * *

_8._

He wasn't expecting the pain to hurt this badly. After all, if _Erwin_ of all people had told him that the searing agony would only be skin deep, he had expected it to be much less excruciating. Erwin didn't exaggerate, but in this case, Levi had thought he could endure it for far longer than he already had.

He hadn't faced hundreds of titans just to surrender so easily to a goddamn _needle_ for crying out loud.

But here he was, clenching his teeth as the cleric inked his shoulder and sputtering round and bloody oaths under his breath every time the old man jabbed into his hard flesh.

"Son. Hold _still_." Father Milton pressed a firm hand on Levi's bare back, trying to keep him steady.

"Just get it over with," Levi muttered, flexing the muscle and relishing the few moments of painlessness. "_Fuck!_" he swore as the needle went in again.

Father Milton ignored expletive, already accustomed to the dirty mouths of the soldiers that walked through his door, and continued marking the young man. He thanked God they weren't doing this in the chapel.

"That young woman…" Father Milton pursed his lips, trying to remember the name. "Ah. Mikasa, was it? What a lovely young lady she is. She'll be–"

"She'll be here tomorrow," Levi twitched, fervently wishing the old man would hurry up and finish the job. He'd already been here for two hours and he wasn't sure how much longer his shoulder could take. _Damn you Erwin._

Father Milton chuckled, gently pushing Levi back down on his stomach to get a better view of the fresh tattoo. "Almost done, son." He pierced the skin again, eliciting another low curse from Levi. "I'm assuming she'll want the same design then. When is the ceremony?"

Levi muttered something incoherent, but then answered, "In a month. We're a bit, _shit_, pressed for time," he grunted.

"Ah. All done then, sir. You might want to–" the cleric frowned as Levi jolted up from the bench he had been lying face down on, "–rest for a little while. The skin will heal in a few weeks' time. Don't disturb it."

Levi scoffed. "I'll be fine," he wrapped his shoulder in a thin strip of cloth, tying the ends with his teeth and wincing at the sharp pain. Flinging his jacket around him, he practically ran from the shop, scowling and secretly relieved it was over. If Mikasa found out he had acted like a pathetic _teenager_ during the inking, she'd never let him live it down, and that was _not _how they were going to start their blissful happy-ever-after.

Mikasa traced the pattern with delicate fingers, not wanting to irritate the sensitive skin. She studied the detailed design, picturing how it would look on her skin, the intricate curls and sharp slashes inscribed on her own shoulder.

Levi had come back to the Scouting Legion's Headquarters and marched straight into her room, glowering and eyes narrowed to slits. She had ordered him to strip, scolding him for not initiating the proper care, but he had just stood there in the doorway, frowning fiercely and shifting his weight to either side.

"Father Milton expects you to be there tomorrow afternoon," Levi murmured with a raspy voice, as Mikasa gently placed a damp washcloth on the red and puckered scar. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he clenched his hand into a fist. "You could be with E–"

She stopped suddenly, letting warm water drip down Levi's back and into the bed sheets, and gripped his other shoulder, her fingers holding onto him desperately tight. "You're right. I absolutely could be. And he could make me feel so incredibly happy, so wonderful, that I could want for positively nothing," she sighed, her mind showing her glimpses of Eren, his beautiful green eyes staring at her with that pitiful look, asking her, _begging_ her to stay with him. She had crushed his heart that day. "But he _wouldn't_. I love Eren, Captain, I really do. And I'd lay my life down to make sure he kept his. Just as you would. But he's not you."

Mikasa resumed sponging Levi's back, the sting from the soap and what she had just said tugging at his heart, the one thing he wished he'd been born without.

"You see, Captain, Eren and I share the same feelings. We'd both risk everything for each other; that's what family does. But instead of allowing me to reciprocate, he would rather choose to lock me away, forcing me to the side and away from this war, where I couldn't be harmed except in the heart. I'd be a prisoner in his love," she whispered, and Levi could hear the tiniest crack in her voice. "What good is a soldier if she's unable to utilize her hard-earned skills and aid her friends when she's buried away in some unforgiving jail cell?"

"You'd be safe, Mikasa," Levi uttered frankly. The inflamed skin was beginning to cool down, and night was falling quickly. "You can't blame him for wanting to–"

"I can and I will, Captain," she said sharply. "It's been seventeen years since his family welcomed me and seventeen years since he's known my ways. I think it's time to stop forgiving his excuses," she sighed, dragging a dry towel over Levi's back. He shuddered from the touch and she pulled away. "You offer me that freedom, Captain. You _acknowledge_ what I have to offer to our cause and _order_ me to lend it to you. You…_you_…" she trailed off, her voice becoming faint. She closed her eyes.

"If that's all I can do for you–"

"How _dare_ you," Mikasa stood up, flinging the wet towel away. It landed on the wooden floor with a _thud_. "You _know _it isn't. I'm not some stupid _business_ transaction you can just forget about later. I _love_ you, Ca–, _Levi_. And _that_," she pointed to Levi's shoulder, "proves _you_ love me. Why do you feel like you have to be so emotionless and cold all the time? _Trust_ this," she grabbed his hand and brought it to your chest, her heart resounding so forcefully it pounded against his palm. "If you can't, trust _yours_," she placed her own palm over his chest, his warm skin calming her. "It's _okay_ to feel."

Levi's breaths were now coming out unevenly, Mikasa's words slowly sinking into his head. _Feelings were for the weak_ his master had always said, _and they always bring nothing but pain. Learn to suppress them and victory will seek __**you**__ out. _He touched his shoulder gingerly, the black lines winding in the corner of his eye. "It's been a while since I've had a heart, Mikasa," Levi said forcefully, the words tasting sour in his mouth.

"You've always had it, Captain," she sighed again, taking off her sweater and opening the windows. "Why do you doubt yourself?"

Levi growled. "I _don't_. I'm just–"

"Scared?" Mikasa offered softly. She sat back down on the bed, slowly pulling off what was left of Levi's shirt. Her heart ached for him, knowing that was exactly what he was feeling; the Captain would never admit it to her openly.

"_Fuck._" He snarled thinly, waves of frustration, confoundment, and fervor all washing over him at the same time, drowning him in a mess of frenzied confusion. He suddenly sprung at her, flipping her onto her back and trapping her beneath him. She drove him crazy and made him question himself and his ideals more than anybody, something that left him completely bewildered. And yet he admired her for it. No one else could see through him quite like she could.

"It's _okay_, Levi," she reached out and cupped his face, her hands running through his hair, toying with the thick strands there. A light breeze fluttered through the window, bringing with it the protection of dark and promise of repose. "_It's __**okay**_," she breathed out again and brought his face to meet hers, her lips exploring his and her hands trying to bring him ever closer. Her brain shut down.

His hands wound in her shirt and she smiled against his mouth, sitting up delicately and helping him remove it. Mikasa whispered something unintelligible in his ear and twisted him under her, resting on his chest. Her hair splayed out between them and he buried his face in it, the flowery smell intoxicating him.

"Don't hide from me," she murmured, leaning down to kiss his dark eyes, but paused when her lips suddenly felt wet. She drew back, salty warmth coating her mouth. "_Oh_…_Levi_," she whispered, her heart wrenching. She could only see the outline of his face, but beneath that stony exterior, she knew he was finally breaking.

"Not now, Mikasa," he answered, his voice flat and refusing to reflect what he was feeling inside. "Not now," he snapped again, and Mikasa smiled. Levi wasn't going to change overnight, but that feeling of dread and regret dissipated inside her. She had been fearful when he had asked that question, planting the seed of doubt within her. _Had he changed his mind?_

But no, he'd been uncertain about _himself_, and she had realized that even Humanity's Strongest could be insecure about such "trivial" affairs as love. He'd never be free from this self-doubt, she concluded, he was too stubborn and unyielding when it came to these types of things, always shrugging it off until a later, less noticeable time. She'd found him drunk over his desk too many times to continue refusing to believe it.

"This tattoo," she fingered it behind him, "signifies your promise to me, Levi. It means you _belong_ to me, mind, body, _and_ soul. And when my skin is marked tomorrow, _I'll_ be _yours_. Completely. But I can't _do_ anything with that if you can't _trust_ me."

He shoved into her, his desire pressing against her, and she wondered if he was hearing any of what she was saying at all. _Stubborn man._

"You," she breathed out, "I…_we_…can do this." Every word was punctuated by a kiss from Levi's burning lips, "Just _listen_ to me, Levi. Are you even…?" She lurched as he bit down gently where her neck met her shoulder. "_Captain_."

"_Fuck_ no," he moaned, his heart pounding a heavy rhythm onto her chest. She could still feel hot tears drip onto her skin.

"In the morning then?" she raised him to meet her eyes in the blackness, refusing to let the matter drop entirely. He needed to know he wasn't going to be alone in this.

Another snarl answered her and she obeyed, stripping off what was left of her clothes and almost ripping off his in her ardor. They lay there for a moment, naked, and she continued to trace his tattoo and the rest of his scars she knew so well.

When she finally initiated, he let her, the tears finally subsiding, and they united in passionate bliss, sweeter than any heaven they had dreamed about.

_Here_ was where they belonged. And _here_ was where they would stay. The freedom they both awarded each other would let them be nowhere else.


	12. One

To his horror, he is still alive. His cold heart is still beating, his lungs refuse to collapse, and his brain is more electric than ever, filling him with emotions he thought he had all too easily suppressed. It is another day, and another hell.

The space next to him is empty–it has been for a while now–and his facade is slowly crumbling. He cannot wait any longer.

His movements are jerky as he flies through the air, reminiscent of years long past when he was still naive and free from these burdens, and his reactions are careless. If she were here, he wouldn't even have to think about where to eject his next cable, which side to turn to–because he wouldn't have to. Two halves of a whole indeed.

Now, he is sloppy, artless, negligent. And he does not care. Because this is what happens when you have so foolishly given half of yourself away to someone, when you thought you would spend the rest of your short life with them, wake up next to them each day, _protect_ them–yes. This is what happens.

_Half of a person cannot function as well as one,_ he continues to repeat to the commander, _she is expecting me soon, so that she may be whole again._

He is a dealer in death; everything he touches withers and fades, and she is no different.

Now, he lays his blood-stained hands on himself, and waits for her call.

The Titan smiles.


	13. Equestrian AU

"Miss Ackerman." Erwin beckoned to Mikasa and she tied the leads of the horse she was training to a nearby pole.

Her back stiffened as she caught the prickly gaze of the shorter man standing by her master.

"I'd like you to meet Levi. He'll be our primary jockey from this point forth. Since you'll be training with each other every day until race day, do try to get along with each other." Erwin left with a knowing smile and sauntered back to the stables.

Mikasa eyed the smaller man. He had a good stature for a jockey: short, but not overly thin, and his narrow face belied a fierce countenance. He was already dressed in a uniform displaying their colors—a sprinkle of white and blue amidst a sea of forest green—and the matching silk around his neck was tied expertly.

"You're a trainer, are you not?" Levi asked gruffly, grounding the heel of his boot into the dirt of the manege. "Care to acquaint me with the different tack this stable uses?"

"A _beginning_ trainer, sir," Mikasa instinctively corrected and gestured to the small pin on her shoulder indicating her rank within Erwin's school.

"Does it matter?" Levi shrugged absentmindedly and waved her off, the tight sleeves around his upper arms straining against the movement.

Mikasa frowned. _The nerve of this guy._ "I suppose not. But perhaps you'd like to have a senior trainer show—"

"Like I said, does it matter?" He walked past her and Mikasa caught a whiff of something fresh lingering in the air after him. "The fact that you're here and not at the Academy still is proof enough to me that you've earned your place among Erwin's best. Mikasa, is it?"

The more the man spoke, the more Mikasa was beginning to get slightly amused. Levi had a strange accent—French, or some other Romantic dialect—and it was starting to draw her in ever so closely. She pursed her lips and followed him toward the main stable.

"Ah. There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you would come to your senses." His heels clicked against the wood of the floor.

"We mainly use the English saddle here—"

"Do you have any Westerns?" Levi immediately interrupted.

"A few. Just for the…children, though," Mikasa pointed to a corner on the tack wall. "And the _cavesson _style noseband with the bridles," she trailed her finger across the wall, indicating each piece of equipment. "I'm also training to be a hunt seat rider, so we also have the appropriate tack and gear for that sport as well."

Levi nodded, drinking in the information pouring out of Mikasa's mouth. "I'll be riding Opaleye then?" He raised an eyebrow at the stalls, searching for the pale thoroughbred.

"He's a bit wild," Mikasa led Levi to the correct stall and reached out to massage the horse's neck. A creamy eye stared back at her and the animal tossed its head proudly, strands of his mane fluttering in front of Levi's face. "I think you'll suit each other quite well."

"And how's that?" Levi asked sharply. "That's a little presumptuous of you when you barely know me, Mikasa."

"All the more reason to begin training as soon as possible…Levi." She felt the honeyed words slide from her tongue, and she silently berated herself for being so bold and suggestive. Not that she didn't mean it.

Levi smirked back, the corners of his lips curling in an amused expression. _"Oui, peut-être,"_ he countered, a curious shine in his eyes growing at her confusion.

Flustered by his foreign response, Mikasa struggled to maintain her normally-distant composure. _Oh to hell with it. _"Care to go for a ride then…with me?" she asked weakly, hoping to high heaven she wasn't making a terrible mistake. "I mean, to test out your performance capabilities and plan your regimen—"

"Quit your blathering, farm girl." The reply came sharp and acrid, and Mikasa felt the heavy weight in her stomach drop to her knees. _Farm girl? _Then: "Only if you saddle up—I'd rather not bother with your particulars of tack right now."

She almost giggled at his sarcastic response—a horrid thought, _Mikasa Ackerman _didn't _giggle_ like a giddy schoolgirl—and offered a feeble sneer at Levi. "I'm no _farm girl_, Levi. That's a little presumptuous of _you_, don't you think?" She threw his words back at him and his indifference dropped like a wet fish, his eyes narrowing in sudden interest.

"I guess we'll find that out on the trail, won't we?" He challenged, throwing himself into a nearby chair by the door. "Prove to me you actually _know_ what you're doing."

"Likewise. Only if you prove to _me_ you actually have some manners and aren't just some enigmatic prat who fancies himself a jockey."

_"J'accepte, mademoiselle,"_ Levi stood up and bent at the waist in a mock bow, and Mikasa almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of his pose.

_Yes. He'll do quite nicely._


	14. Moonflower

_Prompt: Modern AU – Mikasa accidentally sleeps on the shoulder of a stranger on the train._

* * *

Mikasa quickly glanced at her watch, hoping the train would arrive just a little bit late. 9:48 pm. _Damn Armin._ A long day at work had drained her and she was definitely not in the mood to deal with the other pushy passengers of the Underground.

A rumbling and an announcement from the overhead reminded her that the Central Loop was _always_ on time and that today would not be any different, so she sighed, tucking a few files back into her bag. Boarding the car, she chose a seat next to a man reading a thick book with his legs crossed and a slight scowl on his face. He didn't look up when she sat down, which suited Mikasa just fine; she would not be entertaining any sort of conversation tonight, let alone with a stranger.

The whir of the train was constant and low, and soon she found it was difficult to stay conscious: her head was slowly drooping and her eyes were growing dark. She managed to catch herself a few times and jolted up in her seat, flashing a peek at the stranger next to her to see if he noticed—he didn't—until she gave in. She was exhausted from her day at the hospital and she'd be damned if she didn't think she deserved a little rest. So she let her eyelids fall and leaned back, the lull of the train car giving way to blackened slumber.

* * *

Mikasa's seat mate was unaware of her state of unconsciousness until a heavy weight crashed onto his shoulder, startling him from the passage he was reading. Turning, he was about to retort some kind of sharp remark about personal space, until he found it would have been useless: the woman who had taken the seat next to him minutes before had either passed out or—the more likely case, considering their atmosphere—had fallen asleep.

He tried to nudge her off his shoulder and move her head back to its proper position—at that angle, she looked like she had broken her neck—not caring if he woke her or not. A hard shove did the trick and the woman adjusted in her sleep, lolling her head to the other side.

The man harrumphed in satisfaction and reached down to check on something in a bag, muttering to himself. Just a third of an hour left on this godforsaken metal hunk.

The familiar scrape of cloth on plastic caught his attention and he flung out his hand in time to catch the woman from falling into the aisle of the train, yanking her back into her chair. To his growing annoyance, her head snapped back—onto his shoulder again. He almost swore with irritation and sneered grotesquely at her.

Fine. Let the woman stay there. As long as she didn't bloody drool or anything disgusting like that. He had an appearance to keep.

Cracking open his book again, he tried to continue his reading, eyes darting across the page in a particular manner that would leave some feeling wary. But he found that he couldn't concentrate with the snoring woman on his person, and he sighed in discomfort, looking her over.

From what he could see, she was somewhat pretty: black hair framed a young face and green nurse's scrubs covered her thin figure. She suddenly sighed and the man withdrew his gaze, not wanting to be caught staring.

Ah well. You met all sorts of characters in the Underground and this woman was one of the least bizarre he had had to deal with. The only problem was that he was slowly finding her calming.

* * *

Waking from her short nap, Mikasa rubbed her eyes and yawned, sitting up in her chair. When she looked up to find the announcement banner, her eyes met those of her seatmate's, and they weren't exactly inviting.

"Have a nice rest?" He muttered, his fingers tapping on his knee.

He was staring intensely at her and it was beginning to get a little uncomfortable. "I suppose I did. Why?" Mikasa opened her mouth again, but didn't say anything, unsure of what this man wanted from her.

"Did you find my shoulder a proper replacement for a pillow?" he answered gruffly, still watching her.

For a few moments, she didn't answer. She _what?_ Eyes widening, she bit her lip, looking the stranger up and down. His eyes were hard, but his face was soft—though still marred by a frown—and he was dressed impeccably, almost to the point of excess. She swallowed. "I'm very sorry, sir. I've had a long day at work and I—"

"I don't need to hear excuses." He waved her off with a gloved hand and glowered at her. "Just watch yourself."

Mikasa was taken aback. _"Watch_ myself? I'm afraid I don't follow you, er…sir."

"Levi." The man answered and snapped his book shut, placing it in the bag at his feet.

A sweet scent rose from the brown paper as he opened it and she eyed the bag, still leery about the stranger.

"Almost faceplanted into the filthy floor." Levi's scowl deepened. "And you're not being very discreet, are you?"

Her face brightened with embarrassment and she snapped up her eyes. "Sorry, it's just I…er—thank you for catching me, Levi. I'm…Mikasa." She ignored his biting tone.

"Pleasure." Levi said shortly.

Mikasa sighed and pursed her lips, looking this man up and down. His eyes were hard—but his face was soft—and he was dressed impeccably, almost to an excess. "Flowers?" she nodded to his bag.

Levi raised a thin eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"The scent is too fresh to be perfume." She shrugged. "And I've definitely had more than my fair share of it."

"You don't strike me as one who would indulge in _eau de parfum,_ Mikasa." Levi smirked and reached down, bringing out a large white blossom, its petals furled in a tight bulb. _"Ipomoea alba."_

Mikasa smiled. "Sorry. I don't think I'm familiar with it. I've never seen it before."

"Doesn't grow here, so I wouldn't expect you to." He placed the flower on his lap delicately and inspected it, the leaves shuddering. "Moonflower."

"Well it doesn't look like much. It looks like you picked it too early." She turned her head back to the front of the car.

Levi said nothing, still holding the stem on his lap.

"This is my stop. I apologize for the trouble I've given you, Levi. Good day." Mikasa stood up and gathered her bag and coat. To be completely honest, she was still intrigued by this strange man and his flowers and probably would have stayed if she wasn't exhausted. She would never see him again anyway.

"Here." Levi's low voice stopped her and she turned back questioningly. He was holding out the flower between his fingers, a tight smile on his face. "Give it time."

"You're not trying to poison me, are you?" Mikasa teased, but took the flower anyway and held it close, her body going warm and her heart quickening. "Thank you, I suppose. Goodbye, Levi."

* * *

It was still a brisk walk from the train station to her apartment, and Mikasa almost ran home, eager to place the stem in some water so it wouldn't dry out.

_Levi. _What an interesting name. Perhaps a pseudonym? Even more interesting was the name's bearer: his eyes were deep and dark, and Mikasa had perceived bitterness in them, maybe a tragedy or loss of some kind. The words that sprang from his lips were harsh and direct, and his countenance was even more imposing, but she had a dim feeling it was suppressed. He was an enigma, someone who fascinated her, almost to the point of captivation, and she had to admit to herself that she was riveted by this stranger on the train.

She glanced at the flower and almost gasped in surprise. During her walk, it had bloomed almost to its full, and she grinned, bemused. _Moonflower, eh?_ Looking up, the shine of the moon brightened the darkened street and Mikasa clutched the flower tighter.

_Give it time._

It was beautiful: the pearlescent white petals gleamed in the moonlight and they continued to open wider and wider. Looking closer, Mikasa noticed a small slip of paper tucked in the center of the flower between the petals and she gingerly plucked it out. Confused, she unfolded it, wondering why on earth anyone would want to place a piece of paper in a flower, and her thoughts flew to Levi. _Mental, you are._

But her grin grew as she read the verse scribbled on the note.

_That which shields itself during the day will be unveiled beneath the moon._

There was a number hastily scrawled on the reverse side, and Mikasa laughed out loud, her heart shooting out of her chest and her brain going haywire with dizziness and peculiar delight.

"If only, Levi. If only."


End file.
